A Series of Beautiful Contradictions
by lunartick
Summary: It all started because Kuroro needed a place to crash. KuroOC. In which Kuroro meets a series of beautiful contradictions, and falls in love with himself. Rated M for violence, decadence and amorality.
1. A Series of Beautiful Contradictions

**A/N:** This story is set roughly one year or so before the start of the HXH series. It is going to be a MATURE story, though not explicitly so. Please take note. Lastly, opinions stated by any of the characters in this story do not necessarily reflect the opinion of the author.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own HXH, or any of the other works cited in this story, including works by Heidegger and Walter Benjamin.

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><p><span>A Series of Beautiful Contradictions<span>

It all started because Kuroro Lucifer needed a place to crash.

It was not because York Shin City had no hotels, or that Kuroro did not have the money to afford it. There were always places open to someone of his financial status, but he did not want to stay in a hotel, was not in the mood for a hotel. The cold, uniformity of hotels depressed him. The friendly but polite smiles from the serving staff, the absolute sterility of the rooms, the lack of human scent, irked him. He did not want to stay in a hotel. That night, he had been too lonely for that.

In between missions with the Ryodan, and with nothing better to do on his hands, Kuroro had been bored – bored and lonely. He knew that there were Ryodan members in the sprawling metropolis, but it was not their company he craved. They were too familiar, too close for him to feel at ease with them. He could read their every quirk, knew their every mood, and he did not need that now. He needed company he could fade into, company that did not know who he was, company that would not look upon him for… _decisions_.

So he had decided to break into an empty flat.

As he stood on the ledge of the twentieth floor, heading for the pent house at the top of the building, he realized how contradictory his desires and his actions seemed. However, this was something he often did when he was lonely and needed a place to stay. Entering a place that was _lived_ in was… different. There was no one there, but the scent of occupancy was everywhere – the pile of clothing in the corner, the collection of books and music, the contents of the fridge, even the scent on the bed. When he craved company, Kuroro enjoyed living in such places. He would explore the house, guessing at the particulars of the person, the occupation, gender, even sexual orientation. It was a lot less lonesome than living in a hotel, and without the tiresome job of holding polite conversation.

At the floor just below the penthouse, Kuroro paused and sent his senses out. He could not sense the latent nen that everyone carried, could not sense the presence of any living organism. The house was empty.

Glad that he had not just wasted the seconds needed to scale a fifty story building, Kuroro slid the large glass windows (big enough to be glass doors really) open, and quietly slipped into the room.

He found himself standing in what had to be the living room of the place. It was a vast, sprawling place, filled with the most tasteless of furniture. He eyed the bright orange couch and the clashing green loveseat with a raised eyebrow. A person who could afford a penthouse could surely afford something better than the monstrosities before him. Gingerly, he pressed a wary hand against couch and was surprised at how soft and comfortable it was.

Someone who chose comfort over aesthetics then. It was not something a man who spent months living in empty, damp warehouses just for the sake of obtaining beautiful artifacts could understand.

Abandoning the furniture, his eyes roamed to the next thing captured his attention. Books. Lots and lots of books. Books on massive bookshelves that spanned walls. Books that were piled haphazardly on the ground. Books that covered table tops. Interestedly, he ran a practiced eye over the books. Books on trashy vampires who fell in love with nubile teenage girls lay side by side with books on psychoanalysis, cultural studies and hermeneutics. Plays by Shakespeare and Oscar Wilde were piled next to a collection of action-hero comic books. A larger collection of DVDs ranging from films from the French New Wave to modern day blockbusters had collapsed over boxes containing make-up. Loads and loads of makeup. Eyeshadow and lipstick in shades Kuroro, who almost always stuck to black or navy blue, never knew existed.

Ah. A woman or a transvestite then with excellent and horrid taste in books, and excellent and horrid taste in makeup. How curious.

Curiously, he wandered out of the living room and into the dining area, or what would have been the dining area. Instead, the whole area was filled with musical instruments. A beautiful but worn grand piano, guitars of varying types, a saxophone, violins, cellos and even a string instrument Kuroro recognized as a _guzheng_. In a corner were a pile of CDs. Classical music lay next to techno dance tunes. Kuroro forced himself not to wince.

A woman or a transvestite with excellent and horrid taste in books, makeup and music. A classy, elegant person who was also trashy and had no sense of beauty. How very curious.

Moving from the dining area, he entered the kitchen. It was startling clean and neat, compared to the rest of the house. Unable to stop himself, Kuroro peeked in the fridge. Vegetables, fruit, Low-GI grains sat next to chocolate, microwave pizza, soda and processed chips.

Straightening up, Kuroro pursed his lips. A woman or a transvestite, with excellent and horrid taste in books, makeup, music and furniture, who was both a health freak and a junk food addict.

Curious, very, very curious.

Absolutely intrigued by the resident of the house, Kuroro wandered into the nearest bedroom – _and discovered someone there_.

Kuroro froze at the doorway of the bedroom, staring at the still lump lying under a messy pile of sheets. For a moment, he was utterly convinced he had walked in on a dead body. There was no aura, no nen radiating from the lump. It had to be a dead body, or he would have sensed it long before this.

The dead body raised its head and looked straight at him. "Hi," it said in a groggy, feminine voice.

"Hello," Kuroro replied politely.

The head raised further as the person on the bed propped herself up on her elbows and stared at him. It was a… normal face. There was a mass of dark curls, pale skin covered in certain areas by large patches of red, infected acne, and a rather non-descript face overall. Kuroro was disappointed. Somehow, he had expected the owner of this wonderfully contradictory flat to be a little… odder.

Then he noticed the bright feverish eyes and the flushed cheeks – and that he could sense the person's presence now.

"Sorry I'm not up greeting you," the person said in a slurry voice. "I'm not feeling that well, down with dengue." She smiled apologetically, though the effect was spoiled by a translucent trace of mucous dripping from one nostril. "Is there something you needed?"

"Not much really," Kuroro replied. "I was just looking for a place to crash and I thought your flat was empty." He paused, wondering why he had told the truth.

The person nodded as if it explained everything. "Okay," she mumbled, her voice already starting to fade. "Sheets in the cupboard. Couch is good for sleeping. Food in the fridge. Mmm.. give me… another hour…" She was asleep before her head hit the pillow.

And he couldn't sense her aura again.

Kuroro observed with figure with interest. A woman (or a transvestite, he had to admit), with the absolute best and worst taste in anything, and who automatically went into Zetsu during sleep. She wasn't just a nen-user; she was someone who was used to sleeping in places she would not want to be discovered in with her guard down. She was a hunter, a predator.

Just like him.

* * *

><p>Kuroro ended up making tea in the kitchen. It was difficult because he could not find a pot. Then he realized that the woman, whatever her name was, probably just dunked a teabag in a cup. He did the same and found the tea too strong for his liking. Still, it was a cold night and the tea was warm so he drank it anyway.<p>

He settled down on the hideous orange couch, which turned out to be wonderfully comfortable to sit on, and picked up a book at random. Heidegger. He had read it before but he flipped through again.

A clock ticked by somewhere (he later found it in one of the makeup boxes). The night grew colder. At exactly twelve midnight, the woman emerged from the bedroom, wrapped in a thick, fluffy bathrobe that was pure black.

For a moment, Kuroro wondered if the woman had invited him to stay because she was feverish and had thought he was someone else. He wondered if she was going to jump at the sight of him and attack him.

When she stepped into the living room, he smiled at her and she smiled absently at him and wandered into the kitchen. Two minutes later, she emerged with a cup of tea of her own and settled in the green loveseat opposite the couch.

A strangely companionable silence fell over them before Kuroro broke it by saying, "You are awfully calm for a woman who has just discovered a strange man in her house."

She smiled at him again. "My name is Midoya. You?"

Kuroro smiled back. It came a lot more naturally than he thought it would. (At the back of his mind, his subconscious was thinking, "Ah, so she _is_ a woman.") "Kuroro."

Midoya nodded at him. "Now you're no longer a strange man." She smiled as if that settled everything and leaned back in her seat.

"Oh," Kuroro replied, bemused.

"Did you climb up the side of the building?" she asked as if she were asking about the weather.

"Yes," Kuroro replied and then felt compelled to add, "The security on the east wing is terrible. No CCTVs, no security guards except on the first floor, and anyone scaling up the sides of the building can't even be seen from the main street."

"Mmmhmmm," Midoya replied absently. After a minute of caffeine consumption, her dull, feverish eyes grew more alert and she looked at him with renewed interest. "You're the most highly skilled hobo I've ever met," she commented. She reached over and fingered the fur on his coat. "Most well-dressed too."

"I'm not a hobo," Kuroro told her, feeling oddly unoffended. "I just needed a place to stay in and your place seemed nice." He paused and added, "You seem pretty highly-skilled for a rich little girl too."

"I am," she replied, no arrogance in her voice, just a firm confidence. "Though I'm not really a little girl. I'm going to hit twenty-five in a month."

"I'm twenty-six," Kuroro offered and then wondered why he did.

Yet again, she smiled at him. He was starting to like the smile. It wasn't a pretty one, her teeth were slightly crooked, but it was sure and confident and genuine. "You don't look it," she said generously.

Another comfortable silence fell over them and Kuroro found himself looking the woman over. Now that he could get a better look at her, he realized she was not as unusual as he had originally thought. She, like her house, was a wonderful study in contradictions. Patches of skin on her face were scarred with red acne, but the areas that weren't were porcelain, fine and so translucent they glowed in the orange light. Her body was short, plump and soft-looking, almost maternal-looking, but she radiated the poise, grace and strength of a skilled fighter. She sat in utter stillness, so still he couldn't even see her breathing, but her hair, wild and messy, moved in the breeze as if it had a life of its own.

Kuroro smiled to himself, his interest piqued again. This was more like it.

"You can stay for as long as you like," she said suddenly. He realized she had been watching him as much as he had been watching her.

"Oh?" Kuroro questioned in a non-committal way.

Midoya shrugged. "It's okay if you want to stay," she reiterated. She paused and looked around the room with an expression Kuroro recognized immediately. "It's lonesome living here by myself."

"It is," he agreed.

There was another long silence and then he said, "Pleased to meet you, Midoya."

She nodded gracefully at him and replied, "Please to meet you, Kuroro."

* * *

><p>They fell into a routine so quickly it almost bothered Kuroro. In the morning when he woke up, Kuroro would make breakfast for the both of them. He would bring it to her bedroom, as her fever had not subsided. Then he would sit and read till lunch, which he again prepared for the both of them. Then there was more reading until dinnertime, when she would emerge from the bedroom to sit with him.<p>

He enjoyed sitting with Midoya. She was comfortable sitting in absolute silence next to him while they read or brooded. She never asked him where he came from, how he got so proficient at breaking into other people's houses or how long he intended to stay. In return, he never asked her why she had a gun in every room of her house or why some of her clothes had large patches of dried blood.

When they did talk however, it was often fascinating and insightful.

Once, he asked her, "How does one like both classical music and techno?" He gestured to the music discs in question and raised an eyebrow at her.

Midoya frowned slightly as she thought. Her eyes were still bright with fever, and she was shaking in pain under the blankets she had carried out with her. Dengue was nicknamed "bone-crushing fever" for the intense pain the infected suffered from. But she still sat, perfectly poised and thoughtful. "Why is it so impossible?" she asked finally.

It was Kuroro's turn to think. "One would imagine," he said, "that classics such as Beethoven's music are considered skillful, hand-crafted masterpieces while techno music is mass produced music created by technology."

"Is that such a bad thing?" Midoya asked, smiling. "Classical music is played using musical instruments. Techno is played using technology. Both music genres use tools to create pleasing sounds. Why is one so different from the other?"

Kuroro paused. His tastes tend to run towards the past, the old, the antiqued, what has been lost and found again, and he did not understand the delight taken in new trends. "I see," he said reluctantly. "But I fear I shall never enjoy said artiste as much as you do."

Midoya inclined her head in respect of his opinion. "Fear not, Kuroro," she said cheerfully. "While you stay, we shall play naught but the classics. My poor, diseased head cannot take the thump of electronic bass now, as it is."

Silence, as was the norm, fell over the pair again.

It was the most comfortable he had ever been in a while.

Then he discovered the Hunter License in her bathroom.

* * *

><p>It had been lying by the side of the bath tub all this while, but Kuroro had never noticed it till then. He simply had not thought that he would find an invaluable, priceless object that people lost their lives to obtain mouldering next to the soap bar. After he zipped up his pants and considerately washed his hands, he picked up the license and turned it over in his hands.<p>

Two stars. Interesting.

The door to the bathroom opened and Midoya wandered in yawning. "Oh," she said upon seeing him. "Sorry." She moved to leave but he held out the license to her. "Oh," she repeated and took it. "I had wondered where I left it. Last I remembered, I was using it as a bookmark, but I couldn't remember which book I left it in. I wonder how it got in here. Oh well, thanks anyway."

"What sort of a Hunter are you?" Kuroro asked before she could leave.

"A Blacklist Hunter," she replied.

But of course. Oh dear. "My full name is Kuroro Lucifer," he said. "I am the head of the Genei Ryodan."

Her feverish eyes blinked in recognition. For the first time, the silence between them felt tensed. But not uncomfortable, he realized. Part of him was amused at the sight they made, standing stock still in the bathroom with the toilet between them. Part of him was regretful that he was going to have to leave this fascinating house with its fascinating owner.

"Are you here as a Ryodan member?" Midoya finally asked.

"No."

"Do you intend to harm me?"

"No."

"Do you intend to use me against the Hunter organization?"

"No."

"So you were telling the truth when you said you were only looking for a place to stay in?"

"Yes." Kuroro paused, and again, the truth slipped from his lips before he could stop it. "I'm planning something in York Shin, but we're… the Ryodan, we are in between missions now."

"Well then," Midoya said with a shrug. "I don't see a problem. You're not here as a Ryodan member, and I've never had the intention of hunting the Genei Ryodan. Nothing changes."

And _nothing _had changed for her, Kuroro realized as he stared at her face. She was already thinking of something else, having dismissed the issue at hand as unimportant.

"I need to pee," she said apologetically. "Do you mind…?"

"Not at all," Kuroro murmured, feeling something in his chest clench.

At that very moment, with the toilet between them and with her aching to pee, Kuroro Lucifer had fallen in love with her.

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><p>Love was too strong a word, he decided. It wasn't love he felt for her. It was an odd mixture of fascination, admiration and bewilderment. Perhaps a good dose of obsession as well. But it wasn't love. He was not 'madly in love with her', he did not wish to marry her or have her bear his children, he did not want to take her out to dinner, and he most certainly did not want to ride off into the sunset with her. She was just… Midoya. She was comfortable and interesting to be with, attractive and shocking at the same time.<p>

Currently, they were sitting in the living room reading, he on the couch and she on the loveseat. He was holding an old classic by Walter Benjamin and she was reading the latest Science Fiction novel. Her fever had subsided earlier in the day, but from the way she sniffled, she still had a blocked nose.

"What do you think love is?" Kuroro mused out loud.

Midoya's eyes flickered to his face over her book. "Strange to be thinking of love when you're reading about art in the age of mechanical reproduction," she said wryly. "But then, love has always been art's favourite niece." Kuroro remained silent, waiting for her answer, so she put her book down (the cover screamed "Aliens Impregnated Me!") and pursed her lips in thought. "I think," she said finally. "That love is a sensation generated by a series of chemical reactions in our body."

Kuroro blinked, surprised at the simplicity of her answer. "You sound like you do not think much of love," he said finally.

Her eyes flickered to his face again and she smiled. "Tell me, Kuroro," she said. "Why do you feel hunger?"

Unsure of where she was going, Kuroro replied, "I have but a layman's knowledge of why. As I understand it, my body requires nutrition to continue functioning, and so my stomach sends a message to my brain which then triggers the sensation of hunger so I will feed."

"Is that not a vital series of chemical reactions?" Midoya asked gently. "If I took a person and took away his ability to feel hunger, he would starve to death because he would not realize his body lacks the nutrients required to survive."

Now he got it. "You think it is the same for love?" he asked, though he knew the answer.

"I think," she replied, her eyes already back on her book, "that if our bodies did not need it, it would not induce us to feel it."

It was a fascinating thought, to equate love and hunger, one so often seen as an indulgence while the other so often seen as a necessity. Kuroro touched his lips in thought as he mused over the concept.

"How about you?" Midoya asked, her eyes still on her book. "What do you think love is?"

"I think love does not exist," Kuroro replied immediately. "Everyone has a different definition of love. It is so subjective you might as well be define it as 'whatever you think is love, is love'. If there can be no logical definition for love, we might as well proclaim love does not exist at all."

"Hmm. Interesting," Midoya murmured and returned to her book.

One of those comfortable silences that so often existed between them fell – and was promptly broken by a loud buzzing sound. Kuroro lifted his eyebrow in query while Midoya got up and made her way to the lift. "A visitor," she said, fingers already entering the code that would allow her guest to come up.

Kuroro got to his feet. "Shall I vanish?" he asked.

"No stay. It is quite alright." She paused, frowning thoughtfully. "Unless your face is on the Hunter webpage? That would be quite disastrous. The person coming up now is a Blacklist Hunter too."

"Not that I am aware of," Kuroro replied honestly (staying with Midoya was destroying his pride as a bandit). He was quite certain Shalnark would have said something if their faces were all over the Hunter website.

The lift made a soft, pleasant chiming sound and the doors parted to reveal a young man standing in it. "Pepeka," Midoya greeted warmly.

"Midoya-sensei," the man, presumedly Pepeka, replied with the kind of overenthusiasm and adoration Kuroro usually associated with young teens meeting their idols.

Sitting quietly and unobserved, Kuroro eyed the new arrival curiously. Standing to next Midoya made them a study in contrasts. While Midoya was short and plump, Pepeka was tall and buff; while Midoya was almost sickly pale, Pepeka was tanned with perfect skin. And while Midoya projected the calmness, stillness and confidence of a leopard, Pepeka radiated the energy, restlessness and eagerness of an overgrown puppy.

"What are you doing here?" Midoya was asking. "Last I heard, you were hunting a bounty somewhere in East Anchansi."

"Oh I was!" Pepeka replied, his voice loud and expressive. "I caught my bounty and came back, only to hear that sensei was sick, so I just had to…" He trailed off suddenly when his large, earnest blue eyes caught sight of Kuroro. Kuroro offered him a small smile and the young man flushed over in embarrassment. "I didn't realize you had a guest!" he spluttered. "I am so sorry for interrupting, Midoya-sensei. The doorman said you were alone so I presumed…" He stopped suddenly and eyed Kuroro warily. "How did he get here past the doorman?"

The suspicion in his tone made Kuroro raise his eyebrow. It seems the 'doorman' of this building was not to be trifled with.

"That's Kuroro," Midoya said carelessly. "He climbed in through my window."

"Oh," Pepeka replied as if _that_ explained everything (evidently Midoya had some very interesting friends). Obviously still flustered, he made his way over to Kuroro and grabbed his hand in a bone-crushing handshake. "Pleased to meet you," he boomed. "I'm Pepeka Timbal, Blacklist Hunter and ex-apprentice of Midoya-sensei."

Kuroro eyed the powerful handshake, the challenging body language and the bright, aggressive smile, and raised his eyebrow. It had been a while since he had last faced such explicit _machoism_. How… quaint. "Kuroro," he replied, resisting the urge to squeeze back _hard_. "But a mere acquaintance of your esteemed sensei."

"Oh?" Pepeka questioned, the belligerence obvious in his tone. "Whatcha doing here in sensei's house? I didn't know sensei's been giving out her address to _mere_ acquaintances."

Out of the corner of his eye, Kuroro saw Midoya rolling her eyes. It was the first time he had seen any expression of annoyance from the usually calm and collected woman. "I'm staying here," Kuroro said, the corners of his mouth curling upwards in what could, with patience and practice, become a smile someday. "Midoya-chan has most kindly offered to let me live here while I complete some business in town." He had to smile at Pepeka's expression, one of shock, horror and soul-rending disappointment. He had obviously drawn the most obvious and most incorrect conclusion.

The young man sank wordlessly into the loveseat opposite Kuroro, his face deathly pale. Kuroro watched him for a further response but none came. With an inaudible sigh, Kuroro returned to his book. These alpha male types were so easy to deal with it made him feel like a bully picking on them.

Midoya returned from the kitchen and sat cups of hot coffee in front of them. Black coffee for Kuroro, and coffee mixed with chocolate for Pepeka; she had memorized his preferences just a few days into their acquaintance. She sat down next to Pepeka and looked at Kuroro with an expression of amusement on her face. Obviously having witnessed the exchange, she inclined her head to him in acknowledgement of his victory. Kuroro nodded back, the corners of his lips turning up in a more genuine smile. Pepeka missed the whole exchange.

"Being a Blacklist Hunter sounds like an interesting job. How long have you been doing it?" Kuroro asked, feeling the slightest tinge of pity for the poor kid wallowing in despair.

Jolted out of his misery, Pepeka scrambled to fix his face into a calm, blank mask (he failed on all three accounts). "Just over a month," he confessed. "I finished my nen-training half a year ago."

"Ah," Kuroro said, his tone light and friendly, and entirely unlike his usual manner of speaking. "You don't look much younger than your sensei. How amazing Midoya-chan is, being a nen-master at such a young age." He beamed sunshine at her, and she smiled back, an amused and knowing smile. It looked good on her; it made her look like a Spider.

"Midoya-sensei is amazing," Pepeka agreed, his voice rising with idolization. "There's no criminal in the world she couldn't capture. Even the Genei Ryodan wouldn't be a match for her. Bet you she could capture all of them, if only she weren't so lazy about hunting them down."

"Oh? How fascinating." Kuroro smiled at Midoya again, and she smiled back. There was a gleam of excitement and interest in her eyes, and he knew she could see the same in his. They were predators, fighters; the idea of the hunt naturally excited them, even if they weren't going to actually go on one.

"Maybe I will try one day," Midoya conceded in a soft, cool voice in direct contrast with her eyes which were glittering with anticipation. "I am sure it will be… _fun_." Her smile widened just a little, and a thrill ran down Kuroro's spine.

"What do you do anyway, Kuroro-san?" Pepeka demanded, breaking the moment. "Are you a Hunter too?"

"Oh, heaven forbid," Kuroro replied immediately. "I quaver at the sight of blood. No, I am afraid my occupation is a lot less exciting."

"What is it?"

"I am a director of pornographic films." Kuroro beamed more cancerous UV rays as Midoya snorted laughter that she tried to disguise as coughs and as Pepeka turned a colour that was a cross between purple and a very rotten tomato.

"You are a WHAT?" the younger man exploded.

"I was looking for actors in York Shin," Kuroro went on, leaning his elbows on his knees and pressing the tips of his fingers together. "And then, I ran into beautiful Midoya-chan with those lovely legs of hers. I immediately thought, 'Yes! This woman must be in my newest picture!'. Now, I find she has a young apprentice, a strapping young man with the most _arousing_ biceps. What say you, young man? Would you like to star in a porn film?" What a story; he had obviously been associating much too often with Hisoka. Paku would faint if she heard him talking like this.

Pepeka choked on nothing and jumped to his feet. "I will _never_ degrade myself to that level!" he howled furiously. "And don't you dare try to coerce Midoya-sensei into acting in your _vile_ films! She…"

"Pepe-chan," Midoya said patiently, making Pepeka wince. "Kuroro is pulling your leg." She looked at Kuroro pointedly and he hid his smile. Aww, now he had to come up with a new lie. He had quite liked that one too.

"Indeed I am," Kuroro said agreeably. "I trade in antiques, mainly old books. That's how I met your sensei of course." He quirked an eyebrow at Pepeka's furious and suspicious glare. "Fear not. I do not intend to reduce your sensei to a mindless sex object. Quite frankly, I doubt there is any man on earth with the power to do so."

Pepeka stood there for a while, face red and sweaty with fury, before he turned and stomped towards the bathroom. As soon as the door slammed shut, Midoya leaned across the coffee table and murmured, "You are having too much fun at the expense of my dear disciple."

Kuroro leaned over as well and whispered back, "And you're not?"

Midoya's lips curved in a fleeting smile. "Pepeka has always been easy to tease, but I must admit you draw the most entertaining reactions out of him."

"It helps that he thinks I am your… what's that term normal people use… ah, I remember. He thinks I am your 'lover'."

"He can't help it," Midoya replied, her eyes twinkling with glee. "Here you are, sitting on my couch with your hair mussed up and your eyes looking all smoky and dreamy, looking like you just recovered from the post-coital bliss of _awesome_ sex. My poor disciple never had a chance."

"Hmmpmm," Kuroro acknowledged, with the slightest tilt of his head. "Speaking of the little death, I wonder who would win," he mused suddenly, "should the two of us fight." They were leaning so close together their noses were almost touching.

Midoya's head tilted in thought. "We don't know what each other's abilities are like," she said softly. "It is hard to judge." Her gaze on him was sharp but not aggressive. "Do you think I _could_ take on a member of the Genei Ryodan, theoretically speaking?"

Kuroro looked back at her calmly. "I don't know your abilities; it is hard to judge, but if I had to make a guess, I would say yes. I think you could take on a Ryodan member." He smiled. "But we have a truce, no?"

"A truce," she agreed. "I don't hunt the Ryodan and the Ryodan do not rob me blind and murder me in my sleep. This way you get to continue staying here for free while I continue to enjoy your esteemed company."

"Yes."

"A pity though," Midoya murmured. "It would be fun for us to have a little… competition."

It would. Another thrill ran down his spine. Before he could reply, Pepeka came out of the bathroom, took one look at their close proximity to each other, jumped again to the most incorrect of conclusions and started stammering like a clown on drugs.

It was a good thing he did; Kuroro had almost, _almost_ stabbed Midoya in the neck with his Benz knife.

And she had almost stabbed him in the face with the dagger that had magically appeared in her hands.

* * *

><p>REVIEWS!<p> 


	2. Narcissism

**A/N:** This story is set roughly one year or so before the start of the HXH series. It is going to be a MATURE story, though not explicitly so, especially in this chapter. Please take note. Lastly, opinions stated by any of the characters in this story do not necessarily reflect the opinion of the author.

**To flower scent:** Thank you for your review! Unfortunately, I am not as inspired by Kurapika's character as I am by Kuroro and the Genei Ryodan, hence it is unlikely I will have him as a central character in my stories. There are a great many fics with the pairing you like, written by excellent writers, though.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own HXH, or any of the other works cited in this story, including works by Heidegger and Walter Benjamin.

-break-

Not two days later, Midoya was fully recovered and had to head back to work.

It was interesting watching her dress for he had never seen her in anything other than her furry black bathrobe before. Kuroro had been amused to discover that all her clothes were in black, even though she painted her face with the brightest of colours. As he watched her dip a brush into a palette of orange eyeshadow, he had winced and commented about the hideousness of orange paint on the human skin. She, in turn, bore his comments with the stoicism of a statue. When she had finished however, he had been surprised at how well she wore the colours. They turned out less vibrant and glaring on her skin than in the palette, and she had expertly blended them out so they looked more artistic than trashy.

She smiled at his surprise, the pleased smile of an entertainer who had successfully delighted a reluctant audience.

Later that night, she had returned drenched with blood.

"It ruined my makeup," she said ruefully as she headed for the bathroom. "My mascara is waterproof, but everything else on my face isn't." She was in there for half an hour before she emerged, smelling of soap, in her black bathrobe.

"What happened?" Kuroro asked and then wished he hadn't. Since the day they almost stabbed each other in a fit of bloodlust, they had avoided talking about fighting, hunting or blood.

"A stupid bounty is what happened," Midoya replied, sitting down next to him and accepting the glass of red wine he offered. "I was hunting a member of the terrorist group that attacks minority people, usually tribes who still retain their own culture. I had him trapped and there was no way he could have escaped. So what that idiot did was to take his own life. He had a bomb planted in his stomach and he activated it. Blew his guts all over me too." She frowned deeply. "And this bounty was only worth half the price dead." She shook her head. "What a waste of my life."

"What a waste indeed," Kuroro agreed. "And you spent so much time doing your makeup too."

"At least I looked pretty for a couple of hours," Midoya replied with a shrug.

It was the first time she had talked about her job, the life outside of the penthouse that Kuroro had no place in. The sanctity of the penthouse had been breached, and something had changed. Kuroro just couldn't identify what.

Two weeks later, it was Kuroro's turn to return to the penthouse, covered entirely in blood.

"I think my fur coat is ruined," he said as he headed for the bathroom.

When he emerged, she asked, "What happened?"

Kuroro never hesitated. "We just robbed the York Shin Museum of Urban History," he told her. "It turns out the security guards were nen-users, and pretty highly skilled ones too. One of my members, a Reinforcement type, went a little ah… berserk and _physical_. He started hitting the security guards about." He shrugged. "One of the bodies flew into me. I defended with Nen of course, but I still got drenched with blood. So, I guess what happened was… a stupid colleague."

"Ah," Midoya replied with a smile. "Those can be as deadly as a powerful enemy. Just look at your poor coat; you probably have to burn it."

Kuroro smiled back. "At least I looked pretty for a couple of hours."

That was the first time Kuroro had ever told anyone about the Ryodan's missions. The sanctity of the Ryodan had been breached, and something had changed. Now, Kuroro understood what it was.

The fundamentals of their relationship, originally based on a mutual understanding of silence, had changed. It had become okay to talk about previously taboo subjects, because the things that were taboo between them had become less and less.

They had become _people_ to each other.

-break-

That was a more startling conclusion for Kuroro than he dared admit. It was late into the night, but he had remained awake, sitting on the couch, his hand pressed to his lips in thought.

Kuroro was not used to thinking of people as _people_. Yes, he understood that a basic knowledge of human psychology allowed him to manipulate people and predict their actions with a certain degree of accuracy. But, he had never thought of people as organisms whose lives have value. Outside of the Spider, he had never met anyone whom he considered of higher value than a mouse or a cockroach.

Why?

Why was Midoya so special?

Certainly, Kuroro had to admit, Midoya had many special qualities. Personality-wise, she was admirably level-headed while being endearingly quirky. She was highly knowledgeable, well-read, and had a brilliant and devious mind. Strength-wise, she was obviously a powerful Nen-user, a world-renowned hunter, as loved for her abilities as she is hated. She had poise to her, a grace and a natural charisma, that drew people to her. She was, in short, a born leader, a brilliant intellectual and an eccentric introvert.

Which was also an accurate description of himself.

Ah.

Kuroro smiled to himself as he settled down into the couch to sleep. So he saw himself in her. That made everything alright.

It wasn't a case of feeling attachment to a _human being;_ it was merely a simple case of narcissism.

-break-

One month later, Kuroro's sleep was interrupted by the jarringly loud sound of someone trying to sneak soundlessly into the penthouse. Opening his eyes partially, he peeked out from under his covers at the dark figure climbing in through the same window he had climbed in himself months back. With a fairly decent degree of agility, the figure landed in the penthouse and immediately looked straight at him. Kuroro sat up and stared back. It seemed like the polite thing to do.

"Who are you?" Kuroro asked, wondering if he had to be as courteous to the new arrival as Midoya had been to him.

"Shut up and stay out of this," the figure snarled quietly, brandishing a knife menacingly, "or I will cut a new hole in your chest and fuck the shit out of it."

Hmm. Guess not.

Kuroro reached out with his Nen, materializing his book in his hand. The figure hissed in surprise and retreated several steps back. Idly, Kuroro flipped through the book. Should he teleport the intruder outside the penthouse and watch him plummet to his death? Or should he freeze the fluids in his brain? Both were equally tempting.

Kuroro Lucifer really did not respond well to being threatened. It was a bad habit, but oh so hard to break.

Before he could decide, the lights suddenly switched on. Midoya stood in the doorway of her bedroom, hair mussed with sleep, blinking sleepily at the pair. "Friend of yours?" she questioned tentatively as the intruder gave a surprised yelp.

"Hardly," Kuroro replied absently, frowning at his book. It really wouldn't be polite to make the intruder's eyes explode in Midoya's living room would it? Besides, Kuroro did not fancy sleeping next to the slimy remains of someone's eyeballs.

"Blacklist Hunter, Midoya!" the intruder snarled in a voice so filled with hatred Kuroro looked back at him. The intruder was a middle-age man, thin and gaunt, with a sharp, hawk-like face. Veins stood out clearly around his eyes, which were transfixed on Midoya.

"Hello," Midoya said politely. "Do I know you?" Taking the cue from his host, Kuroro put his book away reluctantly. He was only a guest here after all; he would let Midoya decide how to deal with the intruder.

The intruder bristled and drew back his thin, chapped lips in a snarl, much like a feral dog. "You bitch!" he snapped. "I am Kuren of the Red Eagles! You killed our great leader two weeks ago! I am here for revenge!"

Midoya blinked and tilted her head. "I did?" she questioned. "I don't remember. Well, I remember claiming a bounty two weeks ago, but it was a really pathetic one. I got barely half the price I normally get for an average B grade bounty. That doesn't sound like the great leader of some organization." The funniest thing was, Kuroro mused, she was being absolutely serious and sincere. But of course, the intruder didn't know that.

The intruder's face turned a hot, feverish red and he howled in rage. "I will kill you, you bitch!" he roared, emitting a bright red aura. Still howling, he started flinging his aura at her, sending balls of blazing red heat flying through the air.

Kuroro got off the couch immediately and retreated to a corner. He was not afraid of getting hurt. The aura attack was strong, but not so powerful he could not deal with it. He simply wanted to see what Midoya would do. He turned to look at her, and then blinked.

She wasn't doing anything. She was only standing there watching the nen attack flying towards her. Then just before they reached her, she tensed, ever so slightly, and her aura flared up. The nen attack hit her nen and dissipated immediately.

The intruder spluttered in shock and anger while Kuroro's lips quirked in a disbelieving smile. The attack had been a very basic Emission-type attack, but the nen of the intruder was obviously of a respectable level. To block the attack with the barest increase in nen, Midoya was at least as powerful as any one of the Ryodan members.

It was a pity there were no openings in the Ryodan for a new member.

In the meantime, the intruder had overcome his shock and was flinging more attacks at Midoya. She moved from the bedroom, walking slowly towards him, letting her nen dissipate the attacks before they caused any damage to the furniture. Then just before she reached the intruder, she disappeared.

Or so it seemed. Kuroro watched her bounce off the ceiling and drop behind the confused intruder. In a flash she had his arm in a lock, and he was flat on the ground, panting and screaming curses. "Hush," Midoya chided gently. "I have a guest here. Please watch your language."

"Fuck you, bitch!" the intruder howled. "Fuck you and your fucking boy toy!"

Midoya made a disapproving noise and the intruder suddenly screamed as she broke his arm. "Hush," she repeated, her voice still gentle and friendly. "It's not polite to call people names."

The intruder roared and tried to buck her off his back. Midoya sighed and put her knee against his spine at waist level. There was a sharp crack and the intruder's legs suddenly went limp. Kuroro saw his eyes widen in horrified recognition. The intruder's mouth opened and closed, but nothing came out.

"Now stay down," Midoya went on, her voice never changing, "or I will sever your spine at your neck next. That will paralyze your entire body except your head, and that will be extremely unpleasant, no? Good. Now stay down." She got to her feet and wandered almost absent-mindedly to a shelf. A few minutes of poking through the drawers, she returned with a short length of rope. "I'm going to tie you up now," she said in a soothing voice, as if she were speaking to a frightened child. "It's a special rope designed to prevent the user from using his nen. Now, you will be a good boy and stay still, right? Because if you tried to use your nen while bond by these ropes, it will hurt. So be a good boy, okay?" The intruder nodded, eyes still wide with shock, and remained absolutely still while she tied his arms up.

Getting up, Midoya turned and regarded Kuroro. "Sorry about that," she said. "Criminals. You know how they get sometimes." She shrugged, almost casually, but the excitement caused by the brief skirmish shimmered in her aura.

Kuroro nodded in agreement. "I do," he replied.

For a long moment, they stood there staring at each other. He watched Midoya wipe a spot of blood off her cheek, her eyes still fixed on his. Kuroro swallowed hard; his throat was suddenly, inexplicably dry.

"So," Midoya murmured, her eyelashes lowered slightly. "Tell me, Kuroro. Exactly how comfortable is that couch, really?"

For the first time since he came to this penthouse, he lied to her. She smiled back in reply, the same enigmatic smile he had grown accustomed to.

"Follow me then," she murmured, walking towards her bedroom.

By the time she reached the door to her bedroom, she was already slipping out of her robe.

-break-

People tend to see the way blood lust and sexual desire was linked in Hisoka as something of an anomaly. People tend to be wrong. It was not uncommon for blood lust, the excitement of the kill, the thrill of the hunt, and the rush of exerting power over someone's life to be expressed in the form of sexual desire. For example, Kuroro was aware that in some countries, if a woman had been dressed scantily when she was raped, the blame was often put on the woman for 'tempting' the rapist, so to speak, but that was, in many cases, an incorrect assumption to draw. For many rapists, the draw was not primarily sexual gratification, but the joy of exerting power a weak victim. For those, the desire to rape was the desire to overpower and to humiliate. In that case, any woman or man would do, no matter what he or she was dressed in. The link between blood lust and sexual gratification was as simple as that, the relationship between victim and tormentor, though not every killer necessarily expressed it as explicitly as that. Nor were all killers necessarily aroused by violence and blood. Kuroro certainly was not one of them.

Personally, Kuroro never thought much about rape. What was the point in exerting control over a victim that could hardly fight back? Where was the fun in brandishing a weapon in a terrified woman's face and then forcing her to submit to him? There was no sophistication or skill involved in such endeavors. Was it not more satisfying to attack powerful Nen-users for example, or to break into well-guarded mansions? Was not the thrill of out-witting some of the best minds and strongest fighters in the world much greater than overpowering a helpless woman with brute force? Such acts of brutish violence were just too… _small_.

On the other hand, sex in general had never appealed much to Kuroro in the first place. In theory, the concept of indulging in the pleasures of the flesh seemed quite appealing to one who murdered in the pursuit of material goods. In practice however, sex just tended to fall short of Kuroro's high expectations. Kuroro was, by nature, a cerebrally-inclined person. His brain was his biggest asset, and he enjoyed being in control of it. During the handful of times he had indulged in sex however, he had discovered that in the course of the activity, his brain functions progressively decreased until the final climax when his brain simply failed to function altogether. Not only did he dislike the inability to think that came during sexual intercourse, he was also aware that sex was a terribly distracting activity that left him vulnerable to assassination attempts. As such, Kuroro rarely had sex, preferring to sacrifice the primal urge to reproduce in exchange for remaining alive and in control of his life.

Besides, he hated how clichéd the concept of sex was. The concept of the dominant male and the submissive female; the skillful, experienced man and the blushing, virginal woman was just too much for him.

Currently however, Kuroro Lucifer was starting to regret his lack of experience. As he stood awkwardly by the bed watching Midoya walk naked around the room hunting for 'protection' ("Sorry, it's been a while," she had said apologetically), he wished that he had a better idea of what he should be doing since _she_ seemed to know what she was doing. Already, that signified a loss of control, and Kuroro did not relish the feeling of being out of control in any situation.

Well, doing anything would be better than doing nothing. With a shrug, Kuroro started to undress, pulling off the t-shirt and slacks he normally wore at night.

"Nice," Midoya commented in a casual tone, her eyes fixed on him as she advanced forward holding a tiny box in her hand.

"Thanks," Kuroro replied, keeping his tone level and even. It was never good to reveal any emotions during fights, and he figured it probably worked the same during… "Oof," he said in surprise when Midoya put a palm against his chest and pushed him onto the bed.

Lying still, Kuroro watched Midoya climb onto the bed and straddle him. She leaned over, a wicked little smile on her lips, and planted a soft kiss on his nose. Then her mouth moved over his, soft, warm, and _nice_. Kuroro felt his eyelids flutter close and he forgot to feel upset about not being in control. Ah, it seems the loss of higher brain functions had already started.

Her mouth shifted and pressed against his jaw before moving to his neck, licking and nipping gently. See? This only proved how dangerous sex was. Normally, Kuroro would never bare his throat to anyone, but here he was, allowing a powerful Blacklist Hunter to use her teeth on his. As pleasant as it was (her mouth moved to his chest), it was still a huge risk to take. If she wanted to, she could rip his throat out now (her mouth was moving on; where was it moving to…?) and there wasn't anything he could do about _oh_. Ohhh. _That's_ where her mouth was moving to.

Suddenly, all his senses were concentrated on the warm heat pooling below his stomach. By his estimates, his higher brain functions have lowered to hardly fifty percent of its normal efficiency. (Midoya's tongue flicked suddenly and Kuroro's eyes squeezed shut in pleasure.) Make that forty percent and dropping.

Ten minutes later, Kuroro was aware that his higher cerebral functions have decreased to a mere twenty percent. For a man whose head was normally filled with ten separate thoughts, his head was now filled with just two. The first was how _good it felt_, all hot silk and honey, as she moved on top of him expertly. The second was a deliriously constructed image of Ubogin in a bikini throwing a come-hither at him, a desperate attempt to fend off the inevitable. For by the time Midoya had started to make soft, pleased noises next to his ear, Kuroro was already panting desperately, gripping the sheets and teetering on the edge of glorious, nerve-shattering pleasure.

Not for the first time, Kuroro cursed his inexperience in the matters of carnal activities.

"Not yet, Kuroro," Midoya whispered urgently in his ear. "Not _yet_."

Oh, she shouldn't have done that. Kuroro felt his higher brain function decrease to ten percent as the image of Ubogin in a bikini shattered at the sound of her voice. In its place was the image, the _real_ vision of a _real _naked woman on top of him, doing things to him that… _oh… oh no… not good…_

"Oops," Kuroro mumbled, once his body stopped shuddering and his higher brain functions started to return. "It _has_ been a while." Ah, the ability to speak coherently was returning. Good. He already felt more in control of himself.

Midoya shrugged, curling up next to him. "It was nice," she murmured. "And it was fun. Maybe next time."

"Mmm," Kuroro replied agreeably, still floating in a blissful haze of pleasure.

"Get some sleep," Midoya suggested. "There's still some time before dawn breaks."

"Okay," Kuroro mumbled and promptly fell asleep.

Four hours later, Kuroro woke to the first light of dawn shining through the bedroom window. He lay frozen on the bed for a while, his mind running through the events of the night before. Finally, his gaze settled on the warm lump curled up next to him.

So, he had sex with Midoya. No, that was incorrect. If his attraction to her was based purely on him seeing himself in her, could it really be called sex? Yes, biologically speaking, sex had occurred. But if she was only a mere image of himself in a female body, surely what had happened last night had been nothing more than masturbation at best.

Midoya's nose twitched suddenly and her face scrunched up for a moment before she opened her eyes. "Good morning," she mumbled and yawned.

"Good morning," Kuroro replied coolly, wondering if she was going to indulge in some form of cuddling. So far, they had managed to avoid most of the clichés, for which he was infinitely grateful. There had been no comments on how beautiful they were, no gazing into each other's eyes while they had sex, no grand declarations of never dying love, she had not blushed shyly and he had not been expected to know what to do, thank goodness. He honestly hoped she was not going to start indulging in lousy romantic clichés now. He would have to kill her if she did.

Fortunately, instead of pressing up against him and gazing at him with adoring eyes, Midoya hopped out of bed and stretched, unabashed and comfortable in her nakedness. "I need to go to the Hunter's Association for a while," she informed him. "To hand in the bounty and all that." She yawned and made her way to the closet in the corner, and started to flip through her clothing.

Kuroro made some sound of acknowledgement and settled back into the bed. It _was_ much more comfortable than the couch. He closed his eyes, thinking he would catch a few more hours of sleep.

Distantly, he heard Midoya make her way to the bathroom. The shower started. Kuroro turned on his side and pressed his face into the pillow. It felt good, soft and warm from their body heat. He closed his eyes and inhaled. And it smelled like her, a distinctly Midoya scent that was a cacophony of smells, her shampoo, her body lotion, her face cream, her hair lotion and musky sweat. It smelled good. Kuroro's eyes drooped – then snapped open.

No, he _did not just do that_.

-break-

So, the great Kuroro Lucifer had accidentally stumbled over the romantic cliché of wallowing in the scent of a lover left on the bed. It had been purely an accident. Surely a perfectly logical explanation could account for this. Sexual attraction was based largely on chemicals produced by the body in the form of scent, so surely after a night of carnal pleasure, it was perfectly normal for him to be attracted to her scent. His mind had been programmed to produce feelings of contentment and arousal by the combination of her scent and the act of sex, hence smelling her scent generated sensations of pleasure in him. There; that was a perfectly logical reason.

"Don't you think so?" he commented to the ex-intruder, who was still curled up in Midoya's living room.

The intruder glared back at him. "What the fuck do I care if you like her smell or not?" he snarled wearily. Being paralyzed from the waist down and then left hog-tied in a corner overnight had to be an exhausting experience, Kuroro guessed.

"But of course you wouldn't," Kuroro agreed, listening out for Midoya leaving the bathroom. She had been in there for fifteen minutes already. "I merely thought it was an interesting phenomenon to take note of, in the event that it should happen again," he went on, leaning his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands together. "Should I choose to have sex again, I now know that I should expect my mind to be programmed to enjoy the scent of the woman I sleep with, and hence I will not be troubled if I start expressing romantic clichés which is abnormal behavior for me."

"Like I said," the ex-intruder grumbled. "What the fuck do I care?"

That gave Kuroro a pause. He was accustomed to people being willing to listen to him when he lectured. The Ryodan members were used to his sudden rambles, and were usually fairly attentive when he spoke his thoughts out loud. Midoya, similarly, was normally interested in what he had to say. "Surely you would want to know this," Kuroro ventured. "After all, the next time you have sex, you might find yourself attracted to the scent of your one-night stand and be confused…"

"I'm paralyzed from the waist down, moron," the ex-intruder snorted, looking a lot calmer than he had last night. "I ain't gonna be fucking no one ever again."

Kuroro blinked. "That's true," he conceded. "But then there are many Nen-users with the ability to cure such injuries." In a sudden burst of fraternal goodwill, he leaned over and clapped the ex-intruder cheerily on the shoulder. "Have hope, good sir. You may still be able to engage in the pleasures of the flesh!"

The ex-intruder stared at him like he had just grown an extra head. "What the fuck is your problem?" he groaned. "Damn, you're still high on sex or whatever. Go be high somewhere else."

Kuroro blinked again and frowned in disappointment. The male members of the Ryodan usually responded positively to his rare shows of goodwill and camaraderie. Why was this man not responding similarly? Well, Kuroro had read that many criminals tended to have some mental disorders such as paranoia, psychosis and bipolar disorders. Perhaps this bounty suffered from a disorder that left him unable to function properly in a social setting. Oh well, it wasn't really his business.

The bathroom door opened and Midoya emerged, a towel around her head. "Go take a shower," she suggested. "I'll make breakfast before I turn in the bounty."

"Oh good," the ex-intruder said, sounding relieved. "Hurry up; your boyfriend's driving me nuts."

Midoya smiled. "But of course," she agreed. "You are dripping blood on my floor and that is very unpleasant. The sooner you are out of here, the better."

When Kuroro emerged from the bathroom ten minutes later, Midoya had already left. She had left a sachet of powdered coffee on the dining table next to a plate of last night's leftovers. With it was a note that read, "Sorry Kuroro, I had to hurry because the bounty peed his pants. Seems he has lost control of his bowel movements. Yucks. I had to get him out of here before he dirtied my floor even more. Make your own coffee and microwave your own food. Midoya."

What a beautifully unromantic letter. Kuroro read the letter twice and sighed in contentment. All was well in his world again.

Four months later, the Ryodan were back in town for their biggest mission of the year.

-break-

The story ends in the next chapter. Please review!


	3. June Kito

**A/N:** This story is set roughly one year or so before the start of the HXH series. It is going to be a MATURE story, though not explicitly so. Please take note. Lastly, opinions stated by any of the characters in this story do not necessarily reflect the opinion of the author.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own HXH, or any of the other works cited in this story, including works by Heidegger and Walter Benjamin.

* * *

><p>When Machi first caught a glimpse of Dancho after so many months apart, her instincts immediately jerked to life and kicked her in the shins. She straightened her back and stared at her leader as he made his way towards the group of them sitting in an abandoned warehouse. Outwardly, there didn't seem to be anything wrong with him. He looked healthy, and he wore the usual thoughtful expression on his face. Yet… there was just something <em>off<em> about him. Phinx, who was sitting next to her, looked at Dancho as well, drawn by her sudden interest

"Dancho," she greeted when he came close enough to her. Phinx echoed her greeting.

"Machi," he replied with a nod. "Phinx."

He started to move away as was the norm (the Ryodan were not necessarily the most expressive of people), but Machi impulsively said, "Wait."

Dancho turned and looked at her expectantly. "Yes, Machi?" he asked.

Machi frowned, suddenly at a loss of what to say. What was she supposed to say? "Hi Dancho, my instincts say something is wrong with you. What's up?"? "Erm…" she mumbled awkwardly, trying to remember how normal people socialize with other normal people. "How have you been?" That should be the right thing to say? She had heard people say that on television.

Dancho blinked. "Fine," he replied, looking slightly puzzled. Okay, that might not have been the right thing to say then.

Her mind screamed at her to regroup and counter-attack. "Oh," Machi said, trying not to cringe too much. "Erm. Good. You look well."

"Yes," Dancho said, the corners of his mouth curving up ever so slightly. "I've been eating my vegetables."

He turned and walked away, leaving Machi to gape after him. "Did…" she said hesitantly to Phinx who was gaping next to her. "Did Dancho just crack a joke?"

"No," Phinx said immediately then hesitated and added, "I mean… he probably meant it in a factual way right? Like… eating vegetables makes him healthy and so that explains why he looks well. He didn't mean it as a joke, right? I mean… that's Dancho we're talking about. _Dancho_."

"Right," Machi said, unconvinced. "Right. I guess so." She watched as Dancho made his way towards Shalnark, who was, in most cases, in charge when Dancho wasn't around.

"Shalnark," Dancho said, his voice barely loud enough to carry across to Machi. "What did you find out about our new objective?"

"Dancho!" Shalnark chirped cheerily and launched into a detailed explanation that mostly bypassed Machi's attention. Dancho continued to nod though, as if it all made sense to him. It probably did; Dancho and Shalnark were both smart in a way Machi could never be. Sure, she was street-smart; a smart fighter, quick to make battle plans and swift to take the correct action. However, when it got down to looking at the big picture, deducing conclusions from scarce evidence and knowing what knowledge mattered, Dancho and Shalnark were way up there.

Caught in her own thoughts, Machi was only aware something was wrong when Shalnark's face suddenly turned white than red. She watched him splutter for a while before mumbling something to Dancho. Then he turned and walked towards her, his eyes unfocused.

"Shalnark," Machi called.

"Huh? Uh… yes?"

Machi pulled him closer and whispered in his ear, "What happened?"

Shalnark turned white and red again. "Oh man," he mumbled.

"What?" Machi demanded impatiently.

"I think…" Shalnark said slowly.

"Yes? Spill it out!"

"I think," Shalnark repeated, a look of horrified disbelief sweeping over his face," that Dancho just made a dirty joke."

-break-

A week back, Shalnark had received an email from Dancho telling him to look up the Book of Evil Religions. That had been relatively easy. A quick search on the Hunter website had given him a fairly detailed description of the book. As legend goes, at some point in time, a deranged monk had decided to record all the 'dark' cults in the world into one tome. He wrote down the details of the religion, from their beliefs and symbols to the brutal, often gory rituals carried out. After he finished, the monk killed himself by gourging his eyes out and then slitting his wrist. When his apprentice found the book and read it, he went insane, rampaging around the monastery slaughtering monks before he staked himself. People now claimed that whoever read the book would surely go insane.

That had been the easy part. The difficult part was finding where the book was now. A more detailed search, including hunting down rumours and hearsays revealed that the Book of Evil Religions was now in the possession of one June Kito. June Kito was heiress to a vast fortune, owner of most of the businesses in the York Shin red light district, and powerful enough that even the Ten Godfathers chose to negotiate with her rather than threaten her. Her mansion stood in the wealthiest part of York Shin, a sprawling declaration of wealth and decadence, and was guarded by highly trained Nen-users and a state-of-the-art security system.

At the point when the unthinkable happened, Shalnark had been explaining the Nen-field to Dancho. "It's a field designed to fry anyone who walks into it," Shalnark said. "The only way to counter it is to emit high levels of nen all around the body. However, the problem is that the field covers the whole of the outer grounds, and it would take a pretty long time to cover that distance. It would be hard to keep pushing that hard for so long."

And that's when Dancho, with the faintest of smiles on his face, had quipped, "Indeed. That's what he said."

Shalnark had felt the blood drain from his face and then rush back with a vengeance when Dancho's words registered. He had mumbled something about blueprints and then escaped, his mind still whirling from what he had just witnessed.

And now he was staring at Machi's and Phinx's faces turning white and red in synchronization with his own face. "He _did_ _not_," Phinx growled softly. "That is impossible. He probably meant… probably meant that people would _say_ it is difficult to last that long, but we are the Ryodan and the Ryodan is not that weak. _We_ could last that long despite what _others_ say."

"But," Shalnark faltered. "If he meant it that way, he would have said that. You know how wordy Dancho gets sometimes."

"Maybe he hasn't warmed up yet," Phinx said, a desperate note in his voice. "I mean, we haven't had a mission in months, since the last fiasco when Ubo threw a dead body onto Dancho. He's probably still getting into the mood, you know? Like… maybe he needs to clear his throat a little before he really launches into the long lectures."

"I suppose," Shalnark said reluctantly.

Machi shook her head in disagreement. "This feels wrong," she admitted. "Look, it seems no one else has noticed. Let's just keep it between the three of us…"

"There is _nothing_ to keep between…" Phinx bristled.

"Listen," Machi hissed and Phinx actually flinched. "Maybe we're just being paranoid, but my instincts say something is wrong with Dancho. So let's just keep it between the three of us, first, and just… keep an eye on Dancho. It's probably nothing; Dancho gets kind of freaky at times, like that time he decided to tattoo his forehead because of something about philosophical phenomenology, so maybe he's just in one of his moods. But just in case… okay?"

"Okay," Phinx said reluctantly and Shalnark nodded in agreement.

"Okay what?" a cool, measured voice questioned from above their heads.

The three of them jumped in shock. "Dancho!" Phinx squeaked.

Dancho blinked, a surprised look on his face. He had not expected to startle them. "What?" he repeated curiously.

"Erm…" Shalnark stammered. "Uh… I was just telling them about the Book of Evil Religions and how freaky it gets, and we were just agreeing that it would be fun to look for it and see maybe if it really drives people insane and all that and say, what are you doing over here, Dancho?"

Dancho looked at them with an expression of measured suspicion. "You said you were going to show me some blueprints, and I was waiting for you," he finally said.

"Oh, right," Shalnark said, jumping to his feet nervously. "Blueprints. I forgot. Sorry. Give me a minute."

"I'll help you carry them," Phinx offered immediately. Anything to get away from Dancho when he was in a suspicious mood. Sometimes, it was like the man could read their minds.

"Okay," Dancho said agreeably. "But Phinx, Shalnark, Machi." The two men froze, half way to their feet, while Machi tensed up from her position on the floor. Dancho smiled genially. "Are the three of you planning something?"

"No!"

"Yes… No!"

"Kind of. Sorry."

"But of course," Dancho said, still smiling and then turned and walked away. "Be good until after the mission," he said, his back already to them. "Then you can plan whatever you like."

And that was too much for the three. Without another word, they crawled to their feet and headed for the inner parts of the warehouse. Anything to get away from Dancho when he was in one of those moods. That man was just _creepy_ sometimes.

* * *

><p>"I'll be gone for a month," Kuroro told Midoya, his eyes still fixed on the book in his hand.<p>

"Okay," Midoya said, calmly flipping a page.

"I'll still be in York Shin. I can be contacted by phone, but please don't unless it is an emergency."

Midoya's eyebrow lifted slightly. "What constitutes an emergency?" she asked, obviously amused.

Kuroro paused in thought. "Someone about to rip your head off?" he suggested.

"Mmm," Midoya hummed in agreement, still smiling. "If I ever run into someone capable of ripping my head off, I will definitely call you."

"I'll be back," Kuroro said. At least he thought he _said_ it. To his ears, it sounded more like a question, a request.

"Okay," Midoya said agreeably.

"Okay."

-break-

Two weeks later, Kuroro found himself climbing up the side of the building to Midoya's penthouse again.

He wasn't going back to see her, though he often found himself missing the penthouse. The orange couch and her messy, perpetually unmade bed were infinitely more comfortable than the damp, wet floor of the temporary Ryodan headquarters. The bed and the couch were not the reasons he was going back either though. He was going back simply because he had left his coat behind.

It was one of the most bizarre things to ever happen to him. For a large part of his life as Dancho of the Genei Ryodan, Kuroro had always worn the fur coat. He had bought it after their first big success that had propelled them into international infamy and had then worn it most of the time because it was the one respectable article he owned. Later, even after the acquisition of much nicer outfits, he continued wearing the coat simply because at some point it had become a symbol of sorts that labeled him as 'Dancho'. At Midoya's place however, he had hardly ever wore it and when he had walked out of her house, he had forgotten completely about it.

For two whole weeks, he had sat in the Ryodan headquarters, scheming, thinking and giving instructions, all the while wondering why the Ryodan members seemed to be staring at him more often than not. Yet, no one said anything. Finally, it was Shizuku who had, during one of his briefings, exclaimed, "Ah! I know what's wrong!"

Suddenly interrupted in the middle of an explanation about helicopters and the novel concept of 'abseiling' (as opposed to just jumping off the copter), Kuroro had stared blankly at Shizuku while the girl beamed proudly to herself. "What is wrong?" Kuroro asked tentatively. It was rare that Shizuku ever found flaws with his plans; she could hardly remember the plans, not to mention remembering enough to critique it.

"Dancho has been looking off all this time," Shizuku said, still smiling proudly. "And now I know why! You aren't wearing your coat, Dancho!"

Time froze for Kuroro as he instinctively reached out and touched the shoulder of the black top he was wearing. "My coat?" he questioned.

"Your fur coat!" Shizuku said cheerfully. "The one you always wear!"

Instantly, Kuroro felt as if he were standing naked before the Ryodan. "Oh," he said awkwardly, staring blankly at them. They stared back.

"Where is your coat, Dancho?" Machi asked, her voice even. "I don't ever remember seeing you without it since we hit our big break all those years back."

"I…" Kuroro blinked, feeling inexplicably flustered, though it didn't show on his face. "I believe I left it at the dry cleaners and forgot about it."

At that, Ubogin gave off a loud, booming laugh. "Ha!" he exclaimed. "Even Dancho forgets things sometimes!" That had brought a round of good-natured sniggering from some of the members and Kuroro had smiled blandly before concluding the briefing as quickly as possible.

Then, without looking hurried, he had headed straight for Midoya's penthouse.

Silently, he slipped into the penthouse and looked around. It seemed empty but, as he had learned from past experience, wasn't necessarily so. Midoya never got rid of the habit of slipping into Zetsu while she slept.

A quick glance in the bedroom confirmed that she wasn't in.

Quickly, Kuroro started to search for his coat, starting first with the closet and then moving on to the laundry area. His coat wasn't in either place. Frowning, Kuroro stopped in the middle of the living room and thought hard. Knowing Midoya and her non-existent sense of organization, it was possible she had found his coat and simply dumped it in a corner somewhere. He wouldn't be surprise if he found it in her fridge.

To his surprise, he eventually found it lying neatly on the orange couch, the very last place he had thought to look. (the shoe closet and freezer had ranked much higher) A note lay on top of it.

_Kuroro, I found your coat in the laundry. Since it didn't try to rip my head off, I didn't bother to call you. Close the window when you leave. Midoya._

The faintest of smiles ghosted over his face and he pulled the coat on. What a quintessentially Midoya-istic note. Well, now that was… Kuroro froze. _There was someone nearby_.

"Come out," he commanded, cursing his own carelessness. He had been so focused on his objective he had neglected to take note of his surroundings. On that note, they really needed to do something about the security of Midoya's penthouse. If people could just waltz in like that…

Machi and Shalnark stepped sheepishly into the penthouse from the window and Kuroro felt his body tense up. "What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice low and even.

"Erm…" Shalnark mumbled, looking absolutely miserable.

"It was my idea," Machi said.

Kuroro crossed his arms and looked at them.

They fidgeted a moment more than Machi said, "Sorry Dancho. We were worried about you."

"Worried about me?" Kuroro demanded. His inner alpha male ooked in annoyance but he slapped it down. He did not endure testosterone-driven machoism from anybody, including himself.

"You have been a bit distracted," Machi pointed out. "I mean, you totally forgot you left your coat at the… ah…" her eyes flickered around the penthouse, "dry cleaners."

"What I do and where I go in my spare time is none of your business, Machi," Kuroro said, a warning note in his voice.

"Yes but…" Machi said, her voice rising slightly with emotion. Then she shook her head and lowered it. "Sorry Dancho," she said. "My instincts just told me to follow you and I did. I am sorry for being nosy."

She sounded sincere so Kuroro let it pass. He turned around and gave Shalnark a look. "I am sorry too, Dancho," Shalnark said, with just a little less sincerity and a lot more uneasiness. "We just wanted to make sure you were perfectly okay."

Kuroro sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I am fine," he said finally. "I got used to not wearing the coat and forgot about it. Honestly, I did not expect the Ryodan to make such a fuss about it. I've had this coat for years, and I believe I am long over-due for a make-over."

Shalnark laughed. "You know us, Dancho," he said cheerily. "We're all nosy little brats." He paused and then added, "Is this house yours, Dancho? It's a really nice house."

"Yes it is," Kuroro said calmly. "For now." It would make things a lot less complicated.

"Dancho," Shalnark said, "there is makeup on the table."

Kuroro stared at Shalnark until the young man looked away sheepishly. "What I do in my spare time," he said slowly, "is none of your business. We are leaving now."

Only much later did he discover the misunderstanding his words had accidentally caused. By then, he was too busy with other issues to worry about it.

* * *

><p>Breaking into June Kito's mansion turned out to be easier than expected. While Ubogin, Phinx, Feitan and Nobunaga had charged in from the front gate, radiating powerful Nen to resist the Nen-field and to attract the attention of the mansion's defenders, the rest of the Ryodan had dropped down from a helicopter onto the roof of the mansion. Though the nen-field extended above the mansion as well, Kuroro had discovered that it didn't extend as far as it did on the ground. Hence, by taking advantage of the chaos caused by the rowdier members, the rest had slipped into the mansion, bypassing the first level of security.<p>

There, they had encountered a group of highly-skilled Nen-users. Kuroro took one look at them and nodded at his subordinates. "Disperse," he ordered quietly. The Ryodan immediately scattered in pairs, drawing the Nen-users with them.

One remained, looking calmly at Kuroro who was flanked by Pakunoda. "Dancho," Pakunoda said quietly, drawing his attention to the powerful Nen radiating from the bulky man in front of them. Kuroro nodded in reply; he had noticed it already.

"Dancho, huh?" the man said, smiling grimly. "What organization are you from? Are you aware of the repercussions of attacking someone as powerful as Kito-san?"

Kuroro smiled faintly. "Paku," he said calmly, ignoring the man. "I will subdue him. Read his memories to see if he knows anything about the Book."

"Okay," Paku agreed, moving back to give him room.

In a flash, Kuroro materialized his book and pulled out a slim katana that glowed an eerie green. The man looked at him and smiled – and pulled out a massive broad sword.

Kuroro's inner caveman pounded his chest and Kuroro sighed. Honestly, size didn't matter _that much_. Not when a single cut from this katana would cause skin and flesh to rot, and melt off bones.

The massive broad sword swung down and Kuroro dodged nimbly to the side. "Fast huh," the man sneered. "But my sword is bigger and longer, and has more reach. Whatcha gonna do with that puny knife of yours?" Kuroro sighed. Size again.

Oh dear. This was going to be a long night.

-break-

It took longer than expected. By the time Paku was done questioning the men, Ubogin and gang had made it past the Nen-field and into the mansion. Sitting on the roof, Kuroro could hear Ubo's roars from the first floor.

"Dancho," Paku said, appearing by his side. "I'm done."

Kuroro nodded in acknowledgement. "What did you learn?"

"The Book of Evil Religions is in this mansion," Paku said, smiling a satisfied smile. "There is a vault in the basement of the East Wing. It is in there."

"Good," Kuroro said, climbing to his feet. "Did you learn about the defenses of the vault?"

"No," Paku said, following closely behind him as he started to walk rapidly towards the East Wing. "This man has not even seen the vault. He was only informed of its existence. Only June Kito has full knowledge of the security system. We need to find her."

"Well done," Kuroro murmured, and felt Paku bristle with pride next to him.

A soft buzzing came from his pants and he pulled out his phone. "What is it, Dancho?" Paku asked.

"It's a message from Phinx," Kuroro said. "It seems they are a step ahead of us. They have gathered at the vault, and something interesting is happening. There is a very powerful opponent there. Nobunaga lost."

"Nobu?" Paku's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Even if he isn't the most powerful member of the Ryodan, he is still decently strong. To defeat him…"

"Let's hurry," Kuroro said and leapt off the roof.

Halfway to the East Wing, he met up with Shalnark and Coltopi. "Dancho," Shalnark said, running swiftly beside him. "You got Phinx's message?"

"Yes," Kuroro replied. "It sounds interesting. This person who defeated Nobunaga must be strong. I would like to see him in action."

"We're almost there," Coltopi said from behind them. "Down the staircase."

"Mmm," Kuroro acknowledged and then felt his phone buzz again. He pulled it out and put it to his ear. "Kuroro."

"Ah, are you busy?"

Kuroro almost froze in mid-run. Midoya.

"What is it?" he asked. She sounded calm enough, but then she always did.

"An emergency." He could almost see her lips quirk up in a smile.

And then in the background, a very, very familiar voice said, "I'm up next."

Oh dear.

The dark corridor they had been running through came to an end. At the end were the Ryodan members, and in the middle of them, looking straight at him with cool appraising eyes, was Midoya.

* * *

><p>Kuroro put his phone away and looked back, keeping his face blank.<p>

Midoya was there. She was there, standing in front of a heavy, metal door in a pretty black dress he had never seen her wear before. Her feet were bare; ridiculous high-heels lay to one side where she had kicked them off along with a sequined clutch bag. The makeup on her face had smudged, and her hair was pin-straight and pulled back into a sleek ponytail. Nobunaga was unconscious at her feet.

"Dancho!" Phinx exclaimed, his eyes bright and wild with excitement. "She's the powerful one I was telling you about! She took out Nobu with _one_ freaking blow to the head. It was over in seconds! Damn!"

Kuroro nodded dumbly, finding himself lost for words. It seemed enough however; the Ryodan were too distracted to pay attention to him.

They had a truce. He had agreed not to hurt her in return for her not hunting the Ryodan. This… this was out of the framework of the truce. She was guarding the Book, but they were after the Book. He could not ask her to move aside and surrender her responsibilities just as he could not tell the Ryodan to leave without the prize after they had spent months in preparation for this. He had to choose between being the Dancho of the Genei Ryodan and being…

Being what?

"Ah," Midoya said suddenly, flipping her phone shut and flinging it casually aside so it landed on top of the clutch bag. "You guys must be the Genei Ryodan."

Ubogin, raring to have a go at her asked distractedly, "How did you know?"

Midoya smiled. "You mustn't ask, handsome," she said, lowering her lashes ever so slightly. "A girl must have her secrets." Then she looked straight at Kuroro and said, "And, you must be the Dancho of this rowdy bunch."

She had made the choice for him. Just as she always had. Kuroro ignored her and looked at Ubogin instead. "Kill her," he ordered.

Ubogin thundered a roar of challenge and launched himself towards her, massive limbs cracking concrete as he ran. He raised a fist and swung it hard at her – but Midoya was no longer there. In a flash, she was above Ubogin, raining a series of swift kicks at his face. Ubogin took the kicks and rebounded back, howling for blood. Nen burst from him as he flung himself at her, lashing out furiously. She dodged him, escaping injury by the smallest margin.

For a while, they continued as such, Ubogin attacking like a wild beast and Midoya dodging his attacks nimbly. Then there was nowhere to run in the small space.

A howl of anticipation escaped Ubogin as he towered over her, fists raised to crush her skull. Midoya's aura flared up suddenly. "Ying," she murmured – and she disintegrated.

Kuroro watched interestedly as Midoya turned into a cloud of white mist, somewhat in the shape of a woman, but amorphous and undefined. Ubogin's fists passed through her and the fog scattered before reforming around his face. At the last instant, Ubogin strengthened the Nen around his face, but even from where he stood, Kuroro could still smell flesh burning.

"Coward!" Ubogin snarled, patches of his face blistering and red. "Come out and fight me!"

The white mist coagulated into Midoya again, and she stood a distance away from Ubogin, smiling ever so slightly with amusement. "You are very strong," she said, her voice sincere and impressed. "I would rather not fight you head on, if you don't mind."

"Coward!" Ubogin howled again though he looked pleased, but Midoya had already dissipated into white mist that flowed over Ubogin's form. "Fuck!" Ubogin cursed as more of his skin started to blister, and the pelt he wore started to sizzle.

Next to Kuroro, Shalnark shook his head and said, "He can't fight that woman head on either. I know of her. She's Two Star Blacklist Hunter, Midoya."

So Shalnark had heard of Midoya before. "What do you know about her?" Kuroro asked.

"Not much really," Shalnark replied. "Almost everything about her personal history is a mystery. All I know is that she is a Blacklist Hunter who is famous for never having lost her prey before. She always brings them in dead or alive. There are rumours that she is being groomed as Netero's successor. But there are also rumours that she is a black sheep of sorts, a wild card so to speak, in the Hunter's Association, though no one really knows why. All I can say for sure is that she is a very powerful Nen-user."

"Ho?" Hisoka murmured from somewhere behind Kuroro. "Isn't that interesting?" He giggled loudly and Kuroro looked sharply at him. Hisoka was usually one of the quietest members of the Ryodan, preferring to take a backseat and watch the rest of the members work. If he took an interest in someone though…

"Ubo!" Shalnark was shouting. "Do you need help?"

"No! Shut up!" Ubogin roared, but he was swinging around aimlessly, unable to hit the white mist that was Midoya.

Kuroro had to make another choice. It was obvious Ubogin was not going to win, but he was not going to surrender, nor were the other Ryodan members going to interfere unless Kuroro said something. Should he let Ubogin fight till he collapsed or died… or should he do the right thing as Dancho and order the Ryodan members to help him?

A smile briefly flashed across his face. Why was he hesitating? The choice had already been made. "Shizuku," he said sharply. "Assist Ubo."

Shizuku looked at him with a confused look on her face. Kuroro waited patiently. The girl appeared stupid at times, but when it came to fighting, she was as sharp as the rest. He could almost see the light-bulb pop up over her head when she got it.

"Deme-chan," she said, holding up the vacuum cleaner. "Suck up the white mist attacking Ubo!"

It was a gamble. Deme-chan could not vacuum living organisms, but Midoya was now in the form of mist. It was possible that Deme-chan would be able to suck her up. On the other hand, if Deme-chan did do that, Kuroro was unsure of what would happen to Midoya. She might end up trapped in Deme-chan or dead.

The amorphous form twitched suddenly as Deme-chan started to pull it in. Before she could be fully absorbed, Midoya suddenly reformed, right in front of Shizuku, and launched a series of punches at her. Taken by surprise, Shizuku took a blow to the face before she retreated, raising the vacuum cleaner to attack.

Ubogin had been waiting for this. With an earth-shaking roar, he thundered towards Midoya, intent on ripping her apart. "Ying!" Midoya said sharply and disappeared again. Ubogin was smarter than he looked. He backed off immediately, choosing not to engage with her in that form.

"Deme-chan!" Shizuku ordered quickly, and Midoya was forced to retake her human form again.

Kuroro watched the battle calmly as Midoya was forced to use her Nen and then release it. Transforming the human body was not an easy task. It took a lot of skill and stamina to maintain the different forms, and a lot of concentration to keep the forms complete. Eventually, as powerful as she was, she would get tired and slow down. Then, Ubogin would eat her alive or Shizuku would capture her.

"A good strategy, Dancho," Shalnark said admiringly. "She doesn't have a chance now."

Yes, she didn't. Kuroro watched on and felt nothing but a grim satisfaction that his plan had worked. He _was_ Dancho of the Genei Ryodan after all. The Spider always came first.

Then it happened. "Deme-chan!" Shizuku ordered, and the white mist was pulled forcefully towards the vacuum cleaner. Midoya did not reform until the very last moment, wavering as if she were too exhausted to reform.

Victory.

Or not.

As Ubogin launched himself at her, Midoya leapt away from him and said, "Yang." Instead of turning into white mist, she turned into a gleaming statue of silver.

The sudden change was enough to disrupt the pattern Ubogin and Shizuku had set. Midoya leapt over a shocked Ubogin easily and kicked Shizuku in the stomach. Immediately, the petite woman kneeled over and collapsed, Deme-chan disappearing as she did. Without a pause, Midoya darted behind Ubogin, moving with a fluid grace despite her metallic appearance, and kicked Ubogin in the side of his head. The large man made a loud choking sound before he sank to the floor unconscious.

Midoya turned and faced the rest of the Ryodan. Her metal form was, in some ways, much more startling than her fog form because the area where her face would normally be was smooth and empty. There were no eyes, nose, mouth or ears, though her senses evidently still worked. She started to walk towards them, and her feet left deep imprints in the concrete.

Ying was formless, poisonous and defensive. Yang was physical, strong and offensive. Kuroro pressed his fingers to his lips. There were endless possibilities for a power like that. What she had just demonstrated was undoubtedly merely the tip of the iceberg. No wonder Midoya was one of the most powerful Blacklist Hunters known.

Slowly, the metal seemed to melt off Midoya's body. She reappeared in the pretty black dress, breathing deeply but evenly. Sometime during the fight, she had been hurt; her body was covered with scratches and cuts, including a nasty gash across her stomach, and blood trickled from her nose in a slow but steady stream.

"Nyahhhh, I'm next, or so I think," Hisoka drawled, sauntering up to her and ignoring Phinx's protests that _he_ was next. "I really, really want to fight you, cutie, but you look so tired and worn out." His tongue flicked out and licked the card in his hand. "Do you think you are up for it?"

Midoya laughed, a short, sharp bark of laughter and shook her head. "Of course not," she said honestly. "The Genei Ryodan live up to their reputation. I have not been this exhausted in years. I can't even lift a finger anymore." It was the truth; Kuroro could see her legs trembling from where he stood. She had reached her limits.

"Then step aside, mercenary. We don't need you, only June Kito, and you are wasting our time." It took Kuroro a while to realize he was the one who had spoken. Well, it made sense to persuade her to stop fighting. Midoya _was_ strong; she had already taken out three Spiders. If they continued to fight her, they would eventually overwhelm her, but it would be at a high price.

The smile she directed at him was a fraction warmer than the one she normally wore. "That would be a problem," she said. "I am June Kito."

"No you are not," Kuroro said, miffed that she had rejected his offer. "We know who you are, Blacklist Hunter Midoya."

"Yes, that is me," Midoya agreed. "But I am also June Kito." She smiled wryly. "Though not many people knew that before this."

He had lived with her for almost a year. He had never known. Was June Kito the persona she had invented, or was Midoya the mask she wore?

"Oh?" Shalnark asked. "How interesting. So Midoya is your real name? You have to register with your real name to take the Hunter's Exam."

"No," Midoya said. "My full name is Midoya June Kito. I just prefer to be called Midoya."

Ah. How like Midoya, not one _or_ the other, but a strange mixture of both.

Kuroro stepped forward, walking past a shuddering, ecstatic Hisoka and stepping deftly over Nobunaga's unconscious form. "Open the vault and give us the Book," he said calmly. "Don't make us torture it out of you. Feitan is our expert torturer and you really don't want to make enemies with him."

"No, you don't," Feitan agreed, eyes glittering in anticipation.

Midoya met his eyes and smiled. She had black eyes, just like him. How strange; he had never noticed before. "No, I expect not," she said. "Ying."

Before anyone could move, Midoya had disappeared, seeping into the vault of the basement. A collective howl of disappointment rose from the Ryodan and they surged forward as a group, but she had already escaped into the vault.

"What is she thinking?" Shalnark mused calmly, the only one of the Ryodan still standing next to Kuroro. "She is going to be trapped in there."

"No," Kuroro said immediately, thinking furiously. Midoya was not stupid; she wouldn't stay to confront a group of people that had taken out her hired mercenaries. She had to have been buying time… buying time for what? It was possible… "Step aside," Kuroro said and the Ryodan members parted to let him through. Kuroro looked at the heavy metal door for a while then reached out and twisted the handle.

The door opened.

Silence fell over the Ryodan as Kuroro pushed the door open. The room before him was no vault. He looked at the basket of wet clothing in the corner, the ironing board in another and the open door that led to a nice, airy backyard where more clothing hung from poles. This was a…

"Laundry room?" Shalnark blurted out, an expression of utter shock on his face. "But the door…" He turned and looked at it and then exclaimed, "The door is made of wood! Only the front part was painted over with some kind of paint that looks like metal. What…"

Kuroro pressed his hand to his mouth. "I thought it was odd that she stayed to confront the thirteen people that had taken out all the Nen-users in the building," he said. "I thought she must have been desperate to protect the Book but I was wrong. She was buying time. The Book was never in this room. She lured us down here so none of us would notice it being carried away, and then fought us to distract us from realizing that the door was not a vault door but a normal door."

Shalnark made an impressed sound but the rest of the Ryodan members were less than happy. "That scheming, sneaky bitch!" Phinx exclaimed, sounding both annoyed and astounded at the same time. "I can't believe she fooled all of us!"

"Let's hunt her down," Feitan said coldly. "We know who she is; it'll be easy to find her again."

"I can't wait to tear her innards out and bathe in her blood," Hisoka giggled deliriously.

"Dancho! Give us the order!"

"Dancho!"

"No," Kuroro said. "We leave her alone." He was annoyed. Turns out, he _had_ broken the truce unwittingly. By trying to rob June Kito, he had accidentally tried to rob Midoya as well.

"What?" Phinx was whining.

"Why Dancho?"

"Because it is pointless," Kuroro said. "Now that she knows the Genei Ryodan are after the Book, she would not continue to keep it by her side. She would leave it somewhere near impossible for us to reach. Going after her will only result in casualties on our side for no gain. If she wanted to, she could have killed Nobu, Ubo and Shizuku. That's a quarter of the Genei Ryodan. We cannot damage the Spider that badly just for the sake of soothing our injured pride. We let it go."

There was some grumbling but Kuroro knew the Ryodan would listen to him. There was only one exception.

"Hisoka," Kuroro said, looking at the man calmly. "That applies doubly to you."

Hisoka pulled a sad puppy face but Kuroro was already walking away, the rest of the Ryodan trailing after him.

"What a waste," Franklin said with a shrug. "All that planning for nothing."

"Oh, I wouldn't call it a waste," Shalnark said cheerfully as he helped lift the still unconscious Nobunaga up. "We all got a pleasant fight out of it, I am sure."

There were murmurs of agreement as the Ryodan went about picking up their unconscious members. Kuroro left them to it as he walked out into the night air – and continued walking.

By the time he had left the grounds of the mansion, he was shaking. Clasping his hands together, he tried to understand why but for some reason, his mind wouldn't focus. For a man with normally ten separate thoughts in his mind, this time, his brain only contained one.

Midoya.

* * *

><p>Another week passed before Kuroro finally made it back to the penthouse. It had taken days to calm the furious Ubogin and Nobunaga down and convince them that revenge was not a good idea. It had then taken another day or two of rest before he felt <em>right<em> returning.

Now, as he climbed the side of the building, he braced himself in anticipation of tighter security. Midoya knew he knew all the ways into her penthouse, and surely she would take measures against the Ryodan attacking her. Surely, there would be one of those Nen-fields like the one that had surrounded her mansion. (No, there wasn't. Well it was impractical to have a Nen-field around an apartment anyway…) Body guards then. Surely those powerful mercenaries she had hired had been replaced, and were now staying guard around her. (No… No one came out to challenge him, and he was almost to her window.) Maybe there were traps that would be set off once he reached the window. (He put his hand on the window sill. Nothing happened.) A guard dog then! No? Security bells! No? CCTVs? NO?

If Kuroro was the type to splutter, he would have been spluttering furiously. With a sharp kick, he leapt gracefully in the penthouse – and found himself staring at Midoya's exposed, unprotected back.

Midoya turned around and looked at him, her hands clasped around the zipper of her dress. "Kuroro," she said pleasantly. "You are just in time. Help me zip up my dress will you? I can't seem to reach it." She turned her back to him again.

Kuroro's mouth opened but all the lectures about security he had meant to pound into her died away. Wordlessly, he reached over and helped tug the zipper up. "Going out?" he asked quietly, looking at the conservative black dress she was wearing.

"Expecting visitors," Midoya replied, smiling wryly. "The Hunter Association is sending one of their bureaucrat types to question me about the utter destruction of my mansion and the fate of the Book of Evil Religions."

"Ah," Kuroro said, smiling despite himself. "Hidden on some unmapped island, I presume."

"No. Sitting on my coffee table."

Kuroro turned so fast he almost twisted his knees out of their sockets. The Book _was_ lying on the coffee table. It was an eerie looking book, made of black leather and bound by thin ropes with charms dangling from them. Midoya had left her cup of tea on top of it.

"This is…" Kuroro began but then stopped because… because he couldn't explain the indignation and exasperation he felt at that moment. To find the object he had worked so hard to obtain being used as a tea coaster… He turned to Midoya to tell her about how _annoyed_ he felt, but found once again that the words wouldn't come. This was the first time Kuroro had felt so choked up on emotions. He wished Midoya was choking with him, that devious, scheming, tasteless… utterly, impressively, absent-mindedly brilliant woman.

The scream of frustration that had been threatening to escape his throat came out instead as uncontrollable laughter. Holding his stomach, Kuroro collapsed on the couch, laughing hysterically. Goodness, this was just too good… Still laughing, he rolled onto his side and tried to breathe through the laughter. He looked at Midoya and she looked back at him with a look of confused amusement on her face. That set him off again and he curled up, laughing breathlessly. In the background, he heard Midoya start to chuckle as well, influenced by his amusement.

Eventually, the laughter died down, and Kuroro uncurled himself and sat up. "You…" he tried again. "You devious little thing. I admit defeat. You have totally outwitted me."

Midoya smiled, her face flushed with pleasure. "I never tried to outwit you," she said. "You and your Ryodan almost scared the life out of me, turning up so suddenly like that. I barely had time to paint the laundry door."

Kuroro shook his head, chuckling. "Your distraction was excellent," he confessed. "I never thought someone else was escaping with the Book while you stood there defending your laundry with your life."

"Hmm? No, that wasn't what happened. You killed every one of my staff; there wasn't anyone left to escape with the Book."

Kuroro raised an eyebrow. "Then…"

Midoya smiled. "The Book was in my clutch bag all the time. I left it in the corridor when I escaped and retrieved it after the Ryodan left."

This time, his shock could not be contained. Kuroro sat back in the couch and stared at her with an expression of disbelief on his face. "You," he finally said, "are unbelievable. Absolutely, utterly, unbelievable."

It was Midoya's turn to laugh. He had never really heard her laugh before. It sounded good. "Thanks," she replied, grinning.

"I refuse to make an enemy out of you," Kuroro went on, shaking his head. "You are the worst kind of enemy to have; unpredictable, powerful, cunning and absurdly daring."

"People have said the same of you," Midoya said, still smiling.

"I have never been as stupidly brave as you," Kuroro said archly. "I like my life as it is – still existing."

Midoya laughed again and sank onto the couch next to him. "I like it that way too," she replied.

A companionable silence fell over them and Kuroro closed his eyes, luxuriating in it. He had forgotten how relaxing it was to be in Midoya's presence. Slowly, he felt himself start to unwind from the tension and adrenaline rush of the past month. "How are your wounds?" he asked, his eyes still closed.

"Healed," Midoya replied. "Your Ryodan is truly powerful. And the man dressed as a clown was really scary." Her voice sounded soft and relaxed. She did not sound the slightest bit frightened. "Do you want to read the Book of Evil Religions?"

"Mmm. Okay." A second later, Kuroro's eyes shot open and he stared at her. "Did you just ask me if I want to read the Book of Religions?" he asked incredulously.

"Yeah. What's wrong?" Midoya asked, the Book in opened in front of her.

"Isn't reading the Book supposed to drive you into a homicidal insanity?" Kuroro questioned.

"It is?" Midoya asked, looking surprised. "I've read it a number of times, and am perfectly normal."

That would depend on which minute of the day you were asking her, really. Silently, Kuroro took the Book from her and started to read. Five minutes later, he asked, "How did you come by this Book? The last my subordinates could find of its trail, before it ended up in your collection, it was in the possession of a travelling monk known only as Able."

Midoya nodded. "Monk Able gave me the Book," she said. "He is on the blacklist for murder. I arrested him and he gave me the Book. He wanted me to protect it from ruffians such as you."

Kuroro closed the Book. "It neither drives people insane," he said sadly. "Nor is a very good read. How disappointing."

"No," Midoya said, smiling at his disappointment. "Monk Able did mention that the Book had a legend about it, but he said it was created mainly to discourage people from reading it. There are many gruesome and brutal rituals in it, and there have been countless individuals all too willing to carry out those rituals."

"Hmm." Kuroro opened the Book again and read through a ritual at random. "Is this considered brutal?" he asked, genuinely curious. "I've seen Feitan do worse."

"Right? I agree with you," Midoya replied. "I said something similar to Monk Able. That was when he gave me the Book. To him, only cruel, brutal people like us could be protectors of the Book, because we would never be tempted by the Book."

"No, people like us will never be satisfied by the petty abuse of the flesh," Kuroro agreed. "Because we are _truly_ insane."

"Indeed."

Kuroro stretched out on the couch, Book forgotten, and Midoya lay next to him. He looked at her, expressionless eyes taking in her wild, messy curls, the patches of acne, and the tiny scars and cuts that marred her skin. She met his gaze steadily. "The next time you fight the Ryodan again, you will die," he told her. "Do not come near the Ryodan again, and do not stand in between the Ryodan and its prey."

"Tell the Ryodan not to come near me, nor stand between me and mine, or I not let them live as I did in my mansion," Midoya countered in a cool, even voice.

"If you get in our way again, I will kill you. Personally."

"I would expect nothing less." Midoya smiled. "Do not think I wouldn't kill you should the need arise."

"So our truce ends."

"Yes, our truce ends."

Even though guests were due to arrive anytime soon, Midoya twined her fingers in his hair and pulled him closer for a kiss. Silently, Kuroro obliged, wrapping her in his arms, enjoying the feel of her soft body. Her hands pushed back his fur coat but did not undress him any further. Kuroro closed his eyes, and imagined how easy it would be to simply squeeze _hard_ to break her spine. With her paralyzed, it would be so simple to take her back to the headquarters and torture the details of her power out of her. He could have her powers, the fascinating Ying and the powerful Yang.

Or maybe he wouldn't. Maybe _she_ would break his spine before he could break hers. With him paralyzed, she could hand him, the Dancho of the Genei Ryodan, to the Hunters Association for an unimaginable prize. The losses she sustained at her mansion would be nothing.

The kiss broke and he looked at her coldly. She looked back at him, eyes calculating and lips swollen from the kiss. They remained in each other's arms, holding each other fiercely, fingers entwined, until the doorbell forced them to part.

That night, Kuroro moved out of the penthouse.

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><p>Review please!<p> 


	4. Epilogue

**A/N:** This story is set roughly one year or so before the start of the HXH series. It is going to be a MATURE story, though not explicitly so. Please take note. Lastly, opinions stated by any of the characters in this story do not necessarily reflect the opinion of the author.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own HXH, or any of the other works cited in this story, including works by Heidegger and Walter Benjamin.

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><p>Two years later, Midoya woke up in the middle of the night to nothing. Lying absolutely still, she stared at the ceiling of her bedroom and wondered what had woken her up. She had been deep in sleep, exhausted from the sudden rise in missions recently. The Genei Ryodan had attacked the mafia auctions, causing massive destruction to infrastructure. The mafia was now a mess. Not only were the Ten Godfathers dead, apparently high profile players like Nostrad had been said to have dropped from favour following rumours that his daughter had lost her powers. Her lips quirked into a fleeting smile. (And <em>he<em> had said he was not as stupidly brave as her.) With the chaos came a sharp rise in criminal activity, as other organizations tried to take advantage of the disorganized mafia to make a profit. Midoya had not caught so many bounties in so short a span of time in a long while.

Finally, her attention was drawn to the low buzzing sound of her phone ringing.

Ah. The culprit has been found.

Reaching over to the bedside table, Midoya plucked her vibrating phone up and peered at the Caller ID.

Oh. How curious. She hadn't heard from him in a while.

"Hello."

"_Hello Midoya."_

"What is it?"

"_An emergency." _

"Ah."

"_I am in the desert near York Shin. Stuck on top of a plateau as a matter of fact."_

"Okay."

"_You will come?"_

Midoya smiled. "But of course."

"_Excellent. Goodnight, Midoya. See you soon_._"_

"See you soon, Kuroro."

The End

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><p>Thank you to those who have taken the time to read this story.<p>

Anyway, just to let you guys know, I am thinking of writing a sequel to this story. To be accurate, this story was originally designed to be the backstory to the main story, which starts from where Kuroro loses his Nen to where he regains it. However, given that this fic doesn't seem to be terribly popular, I may or may not post the main story, though I will still write it (since I enjoy writing for myself anyway).

Besides, I really like Midoya's character; I think she is rather unique as OCs go. At least I have never met an OC with acne yet.

Just as a trivial: When Kuroro commented that Midoya is a female version of himself, that was really me saying how I got inspired to create the character of Midoya. In my mind, Kuroro is an eccentric genius. We all know the kind: they are brilliant at what they do, but so blind to the tiny things, like their own motives etc. I think discovering someone who is just like him (brilliant, amoral, individualistic, charismatic) would have been fascinating for a person like Kuroro. Just my opinion. I understand that many of you prefer Kuroro with other characters. You are of course free to pair Kuroro up with whoever you like.

Anyway, I hope to see you guys around and please continue reading my stories. It makes me happy to know people enjoy my writings.


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